


Still (Mostly) Nothing Illegal Going on Here (aka Parker luck)

by graceandfire



Series: Nothing Illegal Going On Here [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Discussion of Past Child Abuse, Harry Whump, M/M, Mobsters, Past Child Abuse, Past Peter Parker/Harry Osborn, Read each chapter's beginning notes, Schmoop, Wade Wilson is scary when he wants to be, possessive wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: Set in the "Nothing Illegal Going on Here (aka Parker Luck)” universe AU where no one has powers. Peter Parker is a struggling college student and lucked into a job bartending at Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls, a high class nightclub which clearly isin no waya front for criminal activities.He also has a monster crush on the owner, Wade Wilson buthe can totally repressthat has totally worked out for him. Totally.Please note this is still so completely different from my gen, fluffy, other Spider-Man fic.See beginning notes of each chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, the first fic in this series I was all, "I just need to get this out of my system and it's a one time deal..." I was apparently lying...TO MYSELF. And then, when it didn't go away, I was all..."oh, okay, I will do a mini ficlet where I will do three short paragraphs about 1) domestic schmoop and 2) Harry Osborn somehow making an appearance and Wade not being at all happy and somewhat violent and 3) more bar porn. Hah, hah, hah, over 6,000 words later and I'm still not done. Yeah.
> 
> Please note Wade is a seriously scary guy who tries to tone it down around Peter. Obviously violence is bad, and power imbalances can be dangerous and this is pure fantasy. That said, hope you enjoy!

Peter was a sloth before 10 am. An inert object. He accepted this about himself, nay, he embraced it.

Sadly, Wade fucking Wilson was a _ morning _ person. And, while being a gangster wasn’t apparently enough to break Peter’s susceptibility to his month long maybe boyfriend, being a morning person...came close.

“Petey,” the voice wheedled. 

Peter ignored the voice with every fiber of his being.

“Petey, c’mon.” This was accompanied by poking and prodding along Peter’s ribs which he ignored. He was not ticklish to that, he was not ticklish to that, he was not...he whined and smacked the hand ghosting against him. “Stop’t.”

“Ow,” Wade complained which was just ridiculous because at this point Peter had seen Wade stabbed and the man hadn’t exhibited a reaction other than annoyance.

“‘Mm sleepin’. Go ‘way,” Peter managed to mutter before drifting away into a dream about bunny spiders and...he sniffed in his dreams and then emerged from the fog of morpheus to sniff again in real life. “‘C’fee?” he asked, snuffling after the beautiful scent even with his eyes still firmly closed.

“Yup, baby boy, coofffeeeee….” 

Peter blinked as he reluctantly opened one eye to observe that, yes, the elixir of the gods was in a Care Bear mug directly under his face. He peered at it. Pondered. 

Sleep v. coffee. 

Sleep v. coffee?

Coffeeeee...he sat himself up and reached for the bribe with greedy hands. Held it possessively. Inhaled. Sipped. Aaahhhh…

“You are so fuckin’ sexy when you’re jonesing for coffee,” Wade said in a dark voice that would normally send Peter’s pulse racing but currently...cofffeeee…

An approximate unknown number of minutes later Peter blinked and focused up at Wade who was staring at him with a very, very intense expression on his face.

“Uhm, hi?”

Wade very deliberately reached out and took the empty coffee mug away, smacking it down on the nightstand as he smiled, a wolf’s smile. “Hi there, baby boy. Awake yet?”

Meep.

Two hours, two orgasms, seven pancakes, three scrambled eggs and three more cups of coffee later, Peter was definitely awake as he sat on the couch in Wade’s spacious living room appreciating the sight of the other man who was dressed casually, wearing jeans and a thin, long sleeved dark knit shirt that highlighted a whole lot of rippling muscles. Wade was standing, idly throwing a series of small knives at the dartboard hanging on the far wall of the living room, clustering them in the target’s tiny bullseye because Wade never seemed to miss.

Peter, on the other hand, had already left a number of small gashes in the wall from Wade’s attempts to teach him. 

And the ceiling.

And then there was the lamp incident after which he’d been banned from inside knife throwing.

Wade glanced at him as he whipped the next knife across the room without looking. 

Perfect bullseye. Show off.

“I need to stop by the club this afternoon to meet up with Nessa. Should only be about an hour. Want to come with?”

“I should study,” Peter said reluctantly. He had that chem paper due next week and it was proving to be a pain.

Wade smiled, cajoling. “So bring your books to the club. You can study in my office and afterwards we can go out.”

Hmmm, going to the bar would almost certainly lead to having sex in the bar.

“Okay.”

******************

Since they were running late Wade had decided a peace offering for Vanessa was necessary—“coffee soothes the beast, Petey, you and Nessa have that in common,”—and darted into a small shop to get her favorite mocha latte. 

It was a pleasant day, the air crisp and the constant cacophony of the city cheerful as Peter waited, sipping coffee from his travel mug which he’d made sure to fill to the brim before they’d left Wade’s apartment.

“Peter?”

Peter turned, curious at the sound of his name, and stiffened in shock at the man hurrying up to him. 

Because Harry Osborn was the last person he’d expected to see.

“It _ is _ you,” his former best friend said, stopping in front of Peter with a wide, flashing grin lighting up his face.

Harry’s eyes skimmed over Peter in appreciation. “Wow, you look great. It’s—damn, Pete—it’s been awhile. How are you?”

Uhm, yes it had been awhile. About five _ years _ in fact since Harry had _ cut Peter out of his life_. So it was pretty freakin’ weird that he looked delighted to see Peter now.

“I’m fine, great. And...you?” Peter answered as he studied the other man. And, yes, Harry was as ridiculously attractive as Peter remembered with his bronze close cut curls and pretty features balanced by the masculine square jaw and lean, muscled body. Between his looks, reckless charm, and family money a significant percentage of the student body had fallen all over themselves trying to get his attention in school.

Peter hadn't been immune. Even after all this time he could remember the feel of Harry's body, the taste of his lips, and the heady rush of being the center of Harry’s intense focus. 

That feeling had been everything until, two weeks after the first time they’d had sex, Harry had walked away from their years long friendship without even bothering to give Peter a reason why. 

That part? Had really, really sucked. 

And now here present-day Harry stood beaming at him which...kind of made Peter want to punch him. 

“I’m good too,” Harry responded to Peter’s question, still smiling. “I’m wrapping up my double in chemistry and business and then I’ll be going for my MBA next year.”

“Still going to work for the family business?” There had never been any doubt when they were kids that Harry would follow in his father’s footsteps.

Peter watched Harry’s smile dim. “Uhm, yeah. That’s the plan. Hey, look, Pete, are you busy, do you maybe want to sit down and catch up?” 

“Well,” Peter turned and gestured at the coffee shop they were in front of. “I’m actually waiting for…”

“Petey!” Wade exited the coffee shop, carrying the latte, “Okay, bribe acquired let’s go and…” he stopped short and stared down at Harry, a smile on his face. “Well, hi there.”

Harry’s own smile faded as he stared up at the larger man. “I know you,” Harry said slowly. “You’re Wade Wilson.”

Wade kept smiling as his attention became laser focused. “Yup. That’s me in the ‘too cool to be ruled’ flesh. And who exactly the fuck are...wait,” Wade tilted his head. “You’re Osborn’s kid.”

Harry gave a nod, expression tense. “Yes. I’m…” he stared as Wade draped a deliberate arm across Peter’s shoulders. 

Wade’s smile was not even close to reaching his eyes as he stared down at Harry. “So, how exactly do you know my Petey?”

Okaayyy, this was weird. Peter knew why _ he _ was tense—former best friend/lover who had crushed your teenage soul showing up out of the blue? Hell yeah to the awkward—but the undercurrents between Wade and Harry just did not make sense. 

Peter shrugged under the heavy weight of Wade’s arm and answered before Harry could. “Harry and I went to school together when we were kids. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” he felt oddly compelled to add.

“School,” Wade said slowly and, for some reason, Peter flashed back to telling Wade he’d had one sexual partner in high school. Peter felt a sudden frisson of alarm at the back of his neck but the feeling made no sense because there was no way Wade could infer it was Harry and, even if Wade did somehow connect those dots, it shouldn’t matter.

Peter felt the grip on his shoulder tighten, sensed the strange tension in the air start sliding from awkward to something more dangerous but that was probably his imagination? 

Then again, he had seen Wade shoot a man. Shit. Right, time to go. 

“Well, we should head out, we’re late remember?” Peter nodded at his former best friend. “Nice seeing you again, Harry. Take care of yourself.” And with that he pushed forward, praying Wade would be amenable since, if the other man chose to ignore Peter’s hint, there was no freakin’ way Peter was budging him. But, thankfully, Wade let himself be pulled into motion.

And as they walked away, Peter felt the weight of his former friend’s gaze like a tangible force against his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I'm slightly inebriated right now, so if you see any typos please let me know. 
> 
> Also, totally unrelated, except related to the Avengers, I've been waiting and waiting for someone to write a Avengers/American Ninja Warrior Crossover fic where it's a charity event and the Avengers volunteer to do a Ninja run and why has no one written this and now I might need to. Is anyone besides myself actually interested in that?
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Whatever Happened to Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tracks Peter down. Wade is seriously unhappy about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note Wade is a seriously scary guy who tries to tone it down around Peter. Obviously violence is bad, and power imbalances can be dangerous and this is pure fantasy. 
> 
> That said, hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Some damage is done to Harry in this chapter.

Peter left Sister Margaret’s accompanied by his fellow workers, Ryan and Jose who were comparing weird customer stories from the shift they’d just finished. Peter was wiped from the busy night but the tips had been great, a couple of big spenders throwing money around to try and impress their dates. A few more nights like this and he’d have next semester’s tuition in the bank. 

Of course, if he’d kept the ten grand Wade had offered him as severance when his—surprise, I’m a scary gangster—boss tried to fire him, Peter’s tuition would have been more than taken care of.

But Peter had insisted he take the money back because Wade was too rich, too good looking, too big, too...everything. Not to mention being his _ boss_.

It would be way too easy to let Wade bulldoze Peter’s life and take care of him the way the other man seemed predisposed to do. It was stubbornness and instinct that had Peter digging in about the money, refusing Wade’s attempts to get him to keep it. Which had resulted in the interesting phenomenon of watching Wade Winston Wilson, professional badass, sulk. 

It had been oddly cute. Peter was willing to admit he was pretty far gone.

“Peter! Hey, Pete!”

Pulled out of his thoughts Peter turned and watched as, within the space of a week, Harry freaking Osborn approached him again. 

“Harry,” Peter said warily. “What are you…”

“Pete, I really need to talk to you.” Harry shot a look at Sister Margaret’s before turning back to Peter. “Can we please go somewhere else and…”

“Harry, that’s not a great idea,” Peter interrupted, casting his own worried glance back at the club where Wade was still in residence. Peter had decided to go back to his place tonight mainly because it was becoming way too easy to spend all of his time at Wade’s. And given the weird, oddly dangerous tension between Wade and Harry at last week’s meeting Peter didn’t think their running into each other again would be a good idea.

Harry’s face took on the stubborn cast that Peter remembered from their childhood. “Pete, it’s important. Look, I need to talk to you about Wade Wilson.”

“Oh, wow, just...no,” Peter answered, holding a palm up to face him. “Harry, I haven’t seen you in _ years. _Not since you, in an incredibly ass-holish move by the way, stopped acknowledging my existence. You don’t get to come here after all this time and say you need to talk to me about my boyfriend.”

Harry’s expression turned even more stubborn. “Pete, Wade Wilson is _ dangerous_. You don’t know what he’s done, who he is.”

Peter shook his head. “Harry, we’re not friends anymore and who I see is none of your business. I wish you well but I’m _ not _ doing this with you.” He turned away and was stopped by Harry’s hand on his arm. 

“Peter, please, just let me explain,” Harry looked almost desperate. “Look, I know I hurt you back in highschool but it was for your own good and Wilson is a fucking _ criminal… _”

Peter viewed Harry with mounting exasperation. “Harry, let me…”

And then Harry was no longer holding onto Peter’s arm. Because Harry was flying backwards to crash against a wall.

Oh, shit.

“Wade!” Peter flung himself forward in between Harry, who was straightening up slowly, back braced against the brick wall as he pushed himself up, and Wade who had appeared out of nowhere and was eyeing Harry like he was wondering which limb to rip off first.

“Wade, what the fuck!?” Peter faced the big man who looked even more towering than usual which possibly had to do with the murderous gleam in his eyes.

Wade stared down at him. “Petey, you should head back into the club. I think Weasel needs to talk to you.”

Uh, hell to the no. 

“Wade, you are _ not _ beating up Harry.” Peter put as much conviction in his voice as possible.

“I wasn’t thinking about beating him up,” Wade growled.

Peter caught the unstated implication. “Harry is _ leaving_. And it would be really, really great if you did zero violence of any kind.”

Wade took a slow step forward, inches from Peter’s tense frame. “Baby boy, you need to move.” 

Peter hadn’t seen this side of Wade since their eye opening night a month ago and it sent a frisson of unease through him even as he remained where he was. “Wade…”

Peter heard Harry shift behind him. “See, Pete, I _ told _you,” his voice raspy. “Wade Wilson is a fucking psycho!”

“Wow, really not helping, Harry,” Peter replied, never taking his eyes off of Wade. He willed the man, who he had _ way _ too many feelings for to _ listen _ to him because he wasn’t sure what he would do if Wade really hurt Harry. “Wade, Harry is leaving now and just...please. _ Please_.”

Wade stared down at him, silent, and then he seemed to settle back, the threat of violence fading into the night air. 

“Fine.” The big man looked over Peter’s head, expression flat. “Mini Osborn, you should stay away from this area. I’ve heard it’s not safe.”

Peter turned back to look at Harry. “Harry, go.”

Harry stared back. “Pete...you can’t…”

“Go!”

Peter felt the subtle shift of Wade’s stance more than saw it and Harry apparently did too because he nodded jerkily and without another word stumbled away, darkness swallowing him.

Peter watched him leave before turning back to Wade.

“What the hell was that about?” Peter demanded, arms crossed, nerves still humming from what had almost happened.

Wade’s hooded gaze locked onto Peter. “He put his hands on you.”

“Uh huh. We are in public and he grabbed my arm. Harry’s no danger to me. He just wanted to talk. How did you even know he was…” Peter paused, considering before whipping around to glare at Ryan and Jose who were standing as awkward witnesses, clearly not sure what to do with themselves. “Did you guys text him?”

Jose raised his hands in a profession of innocence while Ryan shrugged, unrepentant. “Sorry, bro. Those are the rules.”

Peter blinked. “Rules? What rules?”

Jose grabbed Ryan’s arm, cutting off his buddy’s response, “Sorry, Pete, we’ve got to go. We have that thing at that place so...see ya,” and they scurried off together.

Peter stared up at Wade in disbelief. “Are people under orders to report on me?”

Wade shrugged. “It ain’t all about you, Petey. I’m in a dangerous business and I’ve got enemies. _ Everyone _ is under orders to report about _ anything _ that’s out of the ordinary.”

Peter frowned, thinking back. “I never got those orders.”

“Guess we forgot to give them to you in orientation,” Wade said, suddenly managing to look simultaneously innocent and shifty.

Okayyy, time to think about that one later.

Peter sighed. “Look, just...I told you I haven’t seen Harry in years. He stopped being my friend a long time ago in a very dickish way and I’ve got no interest in reconnecting with him. I don’t even know how he was able to find me.” Peter paused frowning because, how _ had _ Harry found him?

“Mini Osborn would know I own this club,” Wade answered the unspoken question. 

“But..._why _ would Harry know that? How does he know _ you_?” Peter repeated the question he’d asked after their first chance meeting which at the time Wade had brushed off. 

Now Wade sighed. “Look, Petey, your friend’s dad, Norman Osborn? He’s a bad guy. A seriously bad guy. He’s dangerous.”

Funny how that was just what Harry had said about Wade. 

“Norman Osborn is a businessman,” Peter said slowly, thinking back to his memories of the man. Mr. Osborn had always been nice to Peter, taking an interest in his studies, encouraging his growing fascination with chemistry. True, something about the man had always made Peter a little wary, made the back of his neck prickle in faint warning, but Peter had figured he was just being stupid.

Wade snorted. “Yeah, the same way _ I’m _ a businessman. But Osborn’s specialty is designer drugs and he doesn’t care about any of the nasty side effects his special cocktails might have.”

Peter stared. “Mr. Osborn?” It was hard to reconcile the dapper businessman of his memories with a drug lord. Yes, he’d been intimidating and given Peter that strange vibe and, yes, Harry had always acted conflicted about joining the family business but...fuck, _ Harry._

Harry, who was supposed to follow in his father’s footsteps. 

Peter felt sick at the sudden realization of what that meant. Because, while Harry might have cut ties to him years ago, Peter would never believe the boy he’d known then would have chosen drug dealing as his path in life. 

Not willingly.

“Stay away from Osborn and his kid, ‘m’kay Petey? They’re not good people,” Wade said, expression serious.

Neither of them mentioned the irony of Wade giving that advice.

“I don’t have any plans to seek Harry out,” Peter finally responded, even as the revelation about his childhood friend whirled in his brain, the puzzle pieces sorting into a very disturbing picture.

************************************

Harry entered his apartment and tossed his keys onto the side table with a tired sigh. Meetings with his father always left him drained, the constant tension of walking a tightrope, the danger that he’d say one wrong thing and incur the violent wrath of Norman Osborn. 

Who was growing more unpredictable every fucking year. 

Nothing like seeing your dad bash a man’s head in with your sixth grade soccer trophy—which had happened last week when Marcus had failed to deliver promised improvements to the new product on time—to drive the point home.

And then there was Peter. Seeing him last week had been such a shock of pleasure and then, to see Wade fucking Wilson put his arm around Peter like he owned him...Harry walked to his bar and splashed a finger of whiskey into a glass, knocking it back before pouring a refill, staring moodily into the amber liquid.

How the fuck had someone like Peter ended up dating someone like Wilson? The man was just as bad as Harry’s dad, maybe even worse since hardened criminals seemed to view the guy as some sort of boogeyman and even his dad spoke of Wilson with wary respect. To think of Peter being at the mercy of someone like that after everything Harry had done...the irony of it turned the taste of whiskey in his mouth to ashes.

And his attempt to warn Peter last night sure as hell hadn’t made a difference. Harry couldn’t blame Peter for not wanting to talk to him but there _ had _ to be a way to get him to see what Wilson was. 

Muttering a curse he walked into the living room, too stressed to find the enjoyment he usually did at the sight of the New York skyline from his own place. 

It had taken months of finessing to convince his father that Harry should move out on his own, making the man think it was his own idea. On his first night of escape Harry had sat alone on the floor of the unfurnished apartment, drinking champagne and shaking in relief from finally being free from the constant stress of living under the same roof as his father. Of living with the unpredictable outbursts of rage.

Harry turned from the view, thoughts centered on Peter. There had to be a way to get Pete to...Harry froze, fear shooting through him at the sight of the hulking man who sat, relaxed on the living room couch, radiating danger.

Wade fucking Wilson stared up at him from the shadows and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is now 4 chapters instead of 3 because stuff wants to happen O_o
> 
> Remember to read the beginning notes for levels of violence.
> 
> Also, uhm, sorry about the cliffhanger! Sorry! *runs away*


	3. Guess What I Do To People I Don't Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “See the thing is,” Wade took a step forward as Harry took a step back, “you tried to mess with me and Peter, to warn him against me. And I...,” Wilson leaned forward, voice darkening, “I am not even a little okay with that.”
> 
> “Peter’s a good person, he deserves to know who you are, to know what you are,” Harry said defiantly even as he took another step back in retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that, while no Harry's were permanently damaged in the making of this fic, violence is most definitely done to Harry in this chapter so if a beat down bothers you please be warned. 
> 
> Also, recollections of past child abuse.

“Hi, Harry. You don’t mind if I call you Harry?” Wade Wilson sat on the couch smiling, a predator’s gleam in his eyes. 

“I...I have a security system,” Harry stumbled over the words. “They’ll know you’re here. Just leave now and I’ll tell them…”

“Oh, I kinda disabled your security system. The panic button too so I wouldn’t bother trying to get to it, or the Ruger you had in your nightstand.” Wilson shook his head. “That’s a lousy place to keep it by the way, you should get a proper rig, instead of keeping it shoved under condoms. So anyhoo, your daddy’s men don’t know I’m here which, wow, pretty much sucks epic fuckballs for you.” Wilson stood up...and up, oh shit, the guy was big. 

“Because, really, _ anything _ could happen to you tonight, Harry...” Wilson shifted, a hunting cat pondering its prey, “...and no one would know.”

Fear chased up his spine. “You...what do you want?” Harry asked, voice hoarse as he glanced at the entryway. Maybe he could...

“See the thing is,” Wade took a step forward as Harry took a step back, “you tried to mess with me and Peter, to warn him against me. And I...,” Wilson leaned forward, voice darkening, “I am not even a _ little _ okay with that.”

“Peter’s a good person, he deserves to know who you are, to know _ what _ you are,” Harry said defiantly even as he took another step back in retreat.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. “What_ I _ am? Pun’kin, that’s pretty rich given your family history. You sure as hell ain’t no Boy Scout.”

“_I’m _ not the one who’s fucking Peter!” Harry yelled in fear and frustration.

“Yeah, about that,” Wilson held something up and Harry tensed but it wasn’t a weapon it was...unease curled in his stomach as he recognized it. 

Wade gestured to the framed photo in his hand. “Considering you haven’t seen each other since high school I find it real fucking _ interesting _ that you had this picture on your desk.” Wade looked at the photo and then back at Harry, quizzical. “Shit, it's almost like you’ve still got a thing for Petey. Do you, Harry?”

Harry stared at the picture Wilson was holding. M.J. had snapped it a couple nights after he and Pete had gotten together for the first time, capturing the other boy looking at Harry with a kind of awed happiness. To have someone like Peter look at Harry like that...like Harry was someone good...in the years that followed sometimes it felt like that picture was the only thing keeping him sane, a reminder of one selfless thing he'd managed to get right.

Harry opened his mouth to say he had no fucking clue what but, quicker than he could form the words, Wilson moved across the room, wrapping a massive hand around Harry’s neck and effortlessly lifting, choking Harry’s voice off as he clawed at the iron grip on his throat, toes scrabbling for purchase.

“I don’t like you having this picture, Harry,” Wilson snarled. “I don’t like that you tried to come between me and Petey and I really, _really,” _he emphasized the word with a rough, bone jarring shake, “don’t like the fact that I’m pretty shitfucking sure you were the first person to ever fuck him.” Wade’s predatory smile sent knives of panic slicing through Harry. “Guess what I do to people I don’t like?”

  
***************

Wade let mini Osborn—fucker really did look like that asshat Norman—drop to the ground where he huddled, wheezing from Wade’s fist to his gut. Wade considered kicking him in the ribs but he was in the mood to use fists. Reaching down he hauled mini Osborn up, hitting him with a series of sharp, vicious jabs, enjoying the visceral pleasure of flesh pounding into flesh before tossing the younger man across the room where he fell with a crash. Mini Osborn lay there, retching, before shakily climbing to his feet and stumbling backwards, pain and fear in his face. 

It brought a nice, warm glow to Wade’s heart. 

He should mess up that pretty face Wade decided as he stalked forward. He wouldn’t kill him. Osborn the elder would need to act if his son was taken out--in his line of work doing nothing would finish him--and Wade didn’t need the bother of fending the fucker off right now.

At his approach Mini Osborn, eyes wild, threw a punch which Wade dodged before sending him sprawling again with a backhanded fist across the face. 

This was too fuckin’ easy. You’d think Osborn would have done a better job of teaching his heir to fight...Wade paused, frowning down at where mini Osborn had gotten to his hands and knees, dazed. The younger man's shirt had rucked up, exposing his back. 

Wade tilted his head, studying, and then reached down to grab mini Osborn by the back of his shirt, dragging him up and over to the couch where he leaned him down over the arm.

Mini Osborn freaked, bucking wildly in his hold, “Let me go! Let me go, you sick fuck!”

“Relax, Moonbeam, your virtue, such as it is, is safe with me,” Wade said, absently batting away mini Osborn’s attempts to get away as he yanked the back of the younger man’s shirt up. Oh yeah, cigarette burns. Wade sure as hell knew what those looked like, what those felt like. There were also faded lines on his back. Like someone had taken a belt to flesh enough to leave permanent scars.

Letting the shirt slide back into place Wade manhandled Harry to a sitting position on the couch, shoving him back down when the younger man tried to spring up, patiently repeating the act until he ran out of steam.

“So, mini Osborn...Harry,” Wade said once the kid stopped trying to get away and sat, chest heaving, face tight with pain and frustration. “I notice you haven’t tried to threaten me with daddy Osborn. I give you credit but it’s a little surprising. Why not bring out the only big gun you’ve got that may stand between you and meeting Lady Death.”

Harry glared up at him and, if looks could kill, Wade would be a corpse right now. Fortunately for him Harry wasn’t a basilisk. 

“Well?” Wade prodded as Harry stayed stubbornly silent. The kid had guts, he’d give him that. “All righty, let me try. I’m getting a vibe that you’re not too fond of the old man, hmm? Those cigarette burns on your back. Daddy Osborn give them to you?”

“Fuck you,” Harry hissed up at him, shame and rage burning in his eyes. It was a familiar blend. 

Wade nodded. “Yeah, Norman seems like the type. Now, my old man? He was a charmer. Used to hold me down and let me pick where he’d put his cigarettes out on me. He carved a smiley face into my stomach once...he thought that shit was Grade A hilarious father, son time, y’know?” 

Harry stared at him suspiciously even as some of the hostility bled away.

“How’d you hide it from Petey?” Wade wondered. “He didn’t ask questions?”

Harry sat silent for another long, wary moment until, finally, he sagged back against the couch looking at Wade with tired eyes. “My dad...he wasn’t that bad when we were little. He’d hit me once in awhile but not where people could see the bruises. And he liked Pete. He was always on his best ‘dad’ behavior around him until...when we were in high school he started to...he started to get worse, more unpredictable and, the way he looked at Peter sometimes...” Harry swallowed. “He’d talk about how brilliant Pete was, how he’d be an asset to our family and I…I couldn’t let him...”

“You cut ties with Petey to protect him from your dad,” Wade finished, realizing what Harry had done.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed, a harsh, bitter sound as he gestured at Wade. “And, hey, look what happened. He ended up with someone just as fucking bad.”

“I don’t hurt people I care about, Harry,” Wade answered evenly. “In that at least I’m nothing like the shit stain you were unfortunate enough to be spawned from.”

Harry shook his head, stubborn. “You don’t deserve Peter.”

“Oh, you’re too fuckin’ right,” Wade agreed readily. “I don’t deserve Petey. Not even a little bit.” He leaned down into Harry’s space, the younger man flinching back at the sudden move. “But I’m not as selfless as you, Harry. Peter? He’s _ mine _ and I will fuckin’ _ destroy _anyone who tries to get between us. Do you understand me?”

Harry stared up at him, mute.

“Do you understand me, Harry? I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“I understand you,” Harry finally muttered, looking away.

“Good,” Wade said, standing back. “Because, turns out, I might actually regret having to kill you. Who’d’ve thunk it.” He shrugged, “One things for sure, I like you a hell of a lot better than your piece of shit old man.” Wade thought about Peter being under Norman fucking Osborn’s control. It made him want to track the fuckface down right then and there to rip his head off. 

Wade considered Harry. “You should get away from your old man. Word on the street is he’s starting to lose his shit. Either he’ll go fuckin’ bonkers and take you out or he’ll go fuckin’ bonkers and you’ll get taken out along with him by rivals.”

Harry just shook his head, defeat in the slumped lines of his body. “My dad would never let me cut ties. He’d kill me. I...I’m not strong enough to go against him.”

“Maybe not alone. Maybe you need friends who are more dangerous than daddy dearest. I could help you with that, if you have the balls.”

Harry stared at him in wary disbelief. “What? But...why? Why would you be willing to help me?”

Wade shrugged. “You seem a lot more stable than your old man. And it’s always good to have allies.” And Harry had saved Peter before Wade had even known he existed to be saved. 

Turned out he owed Harry Osborn big time.

“Think about it,” Wade finally said as Harry remained silent. "You know where to find me." Turning, Wade walked away, feeling the weight of the younger man’s stare as he reengaged the security system and left, exiting the building and walking out into the night, climbing into the waiting car.

“Greetings, Mr. Wilson! That did not take so very long. Where can I take you to next this fine evening?” Dopinder asked with a cheerful smile.

“Take me back to the club,” Wade answered. Peter was there finishing up a shift and he felt the need for a little sunshine in his soul right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, whew! This was an interesting and challenging chapter to write even though it always kind of went this way in my head from the start. FYI, I'm not planning to write this further but in my head Wade becomes an ally of Harry and helps him and also, because Harry needs some love, Gwen Stacy, ultra blonde badass, comes into his life and ends up being the one in charge of Norman's criminal enterprises while Harry stares at her adoringly. Yeah, IDEK.
> 
> Next chapter...lots of bar sex.


	4. Here We Are In A Bar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have gotten to the 'pure bar porn' part of the fic. Enjoy!
> 
> *******************************
> 
> Peter felt himself blush even brighter. “You know that’s not what I…”
> 
> Wade laughed. “Just teasing you, Petey. Besides,” he continued, “Weasel told me that if I desecrated his bar top with,” Wade finger quoted, “‘unsanitary shenanigans’ he would fire bomb my private collection of scotch.”
> 
> Oh, God. How awesome to know that Weasel was talking to Wade about their sex life. That was really going to make looking his direct boss in the eye tomorrow way easier.

“You own this place?” Peter asked, studying the empty bar curiously. 

Wade had arrived at Sister Margaret’s just as Peter was getting off shift. He’d been in an odd edgy mood, energy riding high, deciding to stop here on the way back to his place to check on some renovations.

“Yep. We’re doing some upgrades so it’s closed for the next couple weeks,” Wade answered as he turned on the lights and Peter got a better look.

It was a nice bar. Much smaller and less modern looking than Sister Margaret’s but elegant in an old world way, everything polished wood and dark leather. The large windows were currently blacked out with thick paper, drop cloths covering parts of the floor. 

“It’s really nice. Classic,” Peter nodded in approval.

“Glad you like it. It was one of the first places I took over.” 

Peter turned and blinked at how close Wade suddenly was, the bigger man crowding in to gently herd him back against the bar, massive arms caging him in. Peter felt his nerves start to hum at the look in the other man’s eyes. Peter was still getting used to the amazing fact that Wade seemed to want him just as much as he wanted Wade. 

“So, Petey,” Wade said, voice darkening into the growl that never failed to send a jolt through Peter’s system.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember what I said the first time we fucked?”

“You...you said a lot of things the first time we fucked.” Almost all of them filthy.

Wade smiled, a wicked promise. “Do you remember what I said about you and a bar?”

Him and a...Peter’s mind stuttered and he felt a full body flush as he did in fact recall what Wade had said about him and a bar.

“You, uhm,” Peter glanced over at the gleaming wood bar. “You said…”

"Yes?” Wade prompted when Peter hesitated.

Peter felt his cheeks flushing a bright red as he glared up at Wade who grinned down at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“You said you wanted to stretch me out naked on the, uhm, on the bar.”

“So that…?”

Peter swallowed. Hard. “So that you could...play with me.”

Wade stepped back and moved over to sit on one of the leather bar stools. “So…” he spread his arms. “Here we are in a bar.”

Peter rolled his eyes at Wade despite his nerves. “We spend every night in a bar, Wade.”

Wade grinned at him. “Gee, Petey, I didn’t realize you were _ that _ into voyeurism. If that’s the case I could have done this weeks ago.”

Peter felt himself blush even brighter. “You know that’s not what I…”

Wade laughed. “Just teasing you, Petey. Besides,” he continued, “Weasel told me that if I desecrated his bar top with,” Wade finger quoted, “‘unsanitary shenanigans’ he would fire bomb my private collection of scotch.”

Oh, God. How awesome to know that Weasel was talking to Wade about their sex life. That was really going to make looking his direct boss in the eye tomorrow way easier.

“Soooo, I figured if I was going to ever take care of that little fantasy it would have to be somewhere else and…” Wade raised his arms again to gesture at the room, “...this seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

Peter looked around the empty space. Looked back at Wade. “You...really...I…”

Wade shifted the stool and leaned back, elbows resting behind him against the bar top, legs splayed, relaxed in the fitted suit that did nothing to disguise his muscled bulk.

“I mean...you don’t have to,” Wade said mildly. “We can go back to my place and chill. Watch some Netflix. Order takeout.” Wade’s stare darkened. “Or...you can strip. Right here. Right now. Your choice.”

“I…” The thought of what Wade was proposing had nerves lighting up everywhere. It was embarrassing and it was such a turn on that Peter was already half hard. And from the gleam in Wade’s eyes he knew it, the bastard. 

Peter quashed the extremely strong temptation to chicken out. He knew if he did Wade would seriously just call Dopinder to bring the car back around and take them to his apartment. Instead, taking a deep breath, Peter walked a few steps away from the bar so that Wade had a good view of him. He’d already learned just how much Wade liked to watch him undress which was still baffling because it wasn’t like Peter was a specimen of male beauty like Wade was. But it was definitely good for his ego, the pure appreciation in Wade’s gaze as Peter slowly stripped off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby table and tugged his t-shirt up and off. He never bothered to try to make it look sexy because even the thought made him feel completely ridiculous. Unlike Wade who had surprised the hell out of him by doing an actual strip tease to bump and grind music one night which had Peter cracking up and getting hard at the same time—“Yeah, Petey,” Wade had said as he swiveled his hips, “never lose a bet to Nessa. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Wade didn’t seem to care that Peter just unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them, standing in his boxers and then, under Wade’s steady, appreciative gaze, tugging those down as well, standing clear of the pile.

“C’mere, Petey.”

Peter walked slowly over to the other man, stepping in between Wade’s spread legs and closing his eyes in appreciation as Wade reached down to palm Peter’s dick, stroking it lightly, too lightly, thumb ghosting over the tip. He felt himself harden at the attention, giving a needy whine as he thrust up, trying to get more friction only to find himself thrusting into empty air, Wade’s hand gone. Blinking his eyes open, Peter stared up into Wade’s hooded gaze. 

“Oh, Petey, you’re so pretty like this. But it’s gonna be a long night.”

Peter swallowed at the promise/threat and resisted the urge to whimper because he was already turned on and he suddenly wasn’t sure about surviving the evening.

Wade smile was suddenly polite and absently friendly. “Now, c’mon, bartender. Offer me a drink.”

Peter glared but walked around and behind the bar top, efficiently pulling a glass out. “What’ll it be, Mr. Wilson?” he asked, looking up at Wade through his lashes and resisted the urge to smirk as he saw the effect the words had on Wade. 

“Whiskey, neat. My usual,” Wade responded and, yeah, his voice was definitely raspier. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Wilson.” He spotted the Laphroaig on the third, left side shelf and, grabbing the bottle, poured the amber liquid into the glass, setting it down in front of Wade. “Anything else, sir?”

“Mmmm, got any munchies back there?”

Seriously? 

Peter checked in a couple cabinets and found some pretzels and nuts. Pulling them out he filled up two small bowls and placed them on the counter next to the glass with a sharp rap. “Anything _ else_?” Because, uh, he was _ naked _over here.

“Hmm, let me think,” Wade raised the glass to his lips and took a small sip, never taking his eyes off of Peter. Silence stretched out and Peter resisted the urge to lick his lips with nerves because this was...he yelped as, without warning, Wade set his glass down and reached across the bar, hauling him right the fuck over it, effortlessly lifting him up high enough that Peter didn’t even get banged and suddenly he was lying on the bar top, the wood cool and hard beneath him as he stared up at Wade with wide eyes. “Don’t move, ‘m’kay, Petey?”

Peter lay still, resisting the urge to squirm as Wade’s gaze swept up and down Peter’s exposed body, as he picked up his glass—which had somehow survived Peter’s transition—taking another sip.

As the seconds stretched Peter’s nerves grew tauter under Wade’s appreciative view, “Uhm, Wade, you…”

“Shhh, no talking,” a finger came down to tap at his lips and Peter stuck out his tongue and licked it which made Wade grin and tweak his nose playfully.

The big man put his glass down again with an emphatic clack, expression thoughtful as he continued to study Peter, reaching up to slowly unknot his tie. As it came undone Wade slid it between his two massive hands and, okay, it kind of looked like a garrote and that wasn’t unnerving _at_ _all_. Peter opened his mouth to say, he had no fucking clue what, but shut it again at the warning shake of Wade’s head. 

“Put your hands above your head.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he realized what Wade was going to do with the tie but he did as Wade said and felt the nerves squirm in his belly as Wade efficiently tied his hands above his head. He tested the bonds when Wade was done. It wasn’t too tight but it wasn’t loose either and whatever knot Wade had used didn’t give at all.

“Okay?” Wade asked. 

Peter thought briefly about his life choices and how letting a criminal tie him up to do whatever the fuck he wanted to Peter was probably not the smartest thing ever. Then again Wade had been doing ‘whatever the fuck’ he wanted to Peter for a month now and all it seemed to result in was mind blowing sex and cuddle times so…”Okay,” he rasped out.

Wade’s eyelids hooded as he stared down at Peter with a predatory expression. 

“Good boy.”

Fuck, that should not hit him as hard as it did.

Wade sat back on the barstool. Reached out to grab some pretzels and absently munched on them as he studied Peter. “Knew you’d look amazing like this. Fuck, Petey, sometimes I just want to tie you up in my bedroom and keep you there forever. Mine. No one else gets to have you.”

Peter swallowed as he felt his dick twitch. That should be disturbing. That should _ not _ be a turn on. His dick apparently disagreed.

“You have no idea how sexy you are,” Wade continued, a hand coming up to wrap around Peter’s dick, hand moving up and down, still too lightly, as Peter moved restlessly under the teasing onslaught. “I see customers in the club trying to flirt with you and you’re just oblivious.”

Peter’s eyes closed, listening to Wade’s voice as he bucked up, chasing those ghosting fingers, holding back the whine of frustration because it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t close to enough...

“Which is probably a good thing. It would be bad for business if I had to kill every asshole customer who wanted to fuck you.”

Sliding fingers, teasing, stroking...oh god, oh god, oh...

“I bet they’d love the show you’re putting on now,” Wade voice was rough and shiver inducing as he kept stroking but too light, not enough, not _enough_. 

“If I was less jealous I could make a fortune stretching you out on the bar like this every night,” his grip firmed and Peter let out a strangled groan...oh fuck,_ finally_...as Wade's strokes went from too light teasing to being on the verge of too hard, leaving Peter squirming under twin balanced edges of pain and pleasure, his moans caught between encouragement and complaint. 

And then he almost banged his head in frustration against the bar top when Wade let go and went back to the light, too light, teasing.

“You’re so perfect like this, Petey. I could keep playing with you all night while you beg. Do want to beg right now?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. Peter managed to keep the thought silent, opening his eyes to glare up at Wade.

Wade chuckled, knowing. “You are so stubborn, Petey. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Peter’s stomach clenched. Wade had used the “L” word. Neither of them had said that before, even in this context. Wade probably just meant...

Wade picked up the glass of whiskey and dribbled some out on Peter’s stomach, leaning forward to lick it up, hot, wet tongue rasping against sensitive skin as Peter gasped and squirmed under the attention of Wade’s mouth. 

“Mmmm,” Wade growled in satisfaction, voice vibrating into Peter’s skin. “You taste so good.” Peter's eyes were closed when he felt cool liquid dribble onto his dick. Shuddering in anticipation, even knowing it was coming, he couldn't contain the choked scream when Wade leaned over, engulfing Peter’s dick with his mouth, sucking as Peter bucked and moaned into that perfect, demanding, ruthless heat. “Wade, W-Wade, fuck, fuck, _ fuck _...” he felt himself start to...but then Wade’s mouth was gone and Peter was left bucking uselessly up into air and he barely held back the scream of frustration. 

He turned his head, desperate, and saw Wade seating himself again, picking up the now empty glass. “Guess I have to serve myself now, huh,” Wade observed and he grabbed the bottle and poured another serving. “Want some?” He offered.

“You...are an asshole,” Peter panted out, glaring.

“No talking, remember? Unless it’s to beg,” Wade smirked at him and then held the glass to Peter’s mouth and carefully poured some in before leaning down to kiss him, mouth invading, conquering, seeking out every drop.

“I could do this for hours, Petey,” Wade growled into his mouth, a hand ghosting over him again, ranging up and down, stopping to tease at sensitive nipples before reaching up to catch him by the throat, tightening incrementally as Peter’s nerves lit on fire. “You’re just so perfect. So perfect for me. I know I’m not good enough for you. I know I should have never fucking hired you. If I was any kind of a decent human being I’d let you go.”

Peter opened his eyes at that, staring up at Wade, startled. “Wade, what…”

Wade’s hand on his neck shifted, thumb coming up to press against Peters lips. “But I warned you, Petey. I fuckin’ warned you. I’m _ not _ a good guy. I don’t _ do _ the right thing. You had your chance and now I’m not letting you go.”

Wade hauled him up and maneuvered Peter into sitting on the bar, facing Wade, legs obscenely spread on either side as the bigger man bent forward and swallowed him down without warning and Peter screamed under the onslaught of sensations that didn’t stop, were too much, were...oh, don’t stop, don’t stop…”Wade, please! Don’t oh fuck, pleasepleaseplease_ don’tstop_!” Peter bucked and shuddered beneath Wade’s ruthless, perfect mouth and he was coming and coming and—“ _ Wade!_”—he shook apart, held up by Wade’s arms, helpless as Wade kept licking, kept sucking, kept growling with Peter’s softening dick in his mouth, milking every pulse and sensation, overloading his nerves, and all Peter could do was _feel_.

When Peter finally came to enough to take in his surroundings, to realize how his legs were still spread wide with Wade leaning between them, his hands still bound...to think about being so exposed, he vaguely thought he should feel some sort of shame, some sort of embarrassment at what he could be reduced to by this man but instead he felt almost...worshiped.

Taking in a shuddering breath Peter looked up at Wade who was staring at him like he was resting to gain the strength to wreck Peter all over again. 

“Did you…” he gestured down at Wade, feeling suddenly almost bashful. “Did you come?”

Wade laughed softly. “Oh, yeah, Petey-pie. Watching you? Having my mouth on you? You bet your sweet ass I came.”

“Okay...good.” Peter blinked, remembering. “Wade, what you said earlier, about letting me go, I...you know I chose this, I chose to be with you. You didn’t make me. You know that, right?”

Wade just looked at him for a long moment and then smiled, lopsided. “Yeah, I know. I don’t understand it but I know.” He helped Peter off of the bar, untying him and grabbing his discarded clothes, helping him dress. When they were done Wade leaned down and pressed an almost chaste kiss on Peter’s mouth.

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, thank you for coming along on this ride with me...again :)
> 
> Seriously, this really did start with the idea of doing three little ficlet scenes but they kept expanding in my head and eventually they linked up with each other and...yeah. I actually wrote Chapter 1 and Chapter 4 kind of simultaneously and filled it in with Chapters 2 (and 3 when it insisted) so that was interesting.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who kudo'd and commented!


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